


There Is Not A Dawn On Eastern Skies

by Dangit



Category: One Piece
Genre: Ancient History, Canonical Character Death, Gen, Mythical Beings & Creatures, Prologue, Semi-Historic, Zoro and Kuina are siblings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-22
Updated: 2015-09-22
Packaged: 2018-04-22 22:39:11
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 11,936
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4853231
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dangit/pseuds/Dangit
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>As Zoro's takes leadership of his pack, he must face a threat coming from the west.</p><p>A prologue to my main story.</p>
            </blockquote>





	There Is Not A Dawn On Eastern Skies

**Author's Note:**

> HI there! So this is not the story that I was talking about, this is kind of like it's prologue. As I was writing the main story, I was suddenly hit with the need to write Zoro's past, which is basically what this is. A lot of things won't make sense, but once I post the main story you'll be glad you read this one!!  
> And maybe you can take it as a little test-taste ;P

The sun is sinking in the sky, and Zoro is starting to get worried. He lost sight of the others earlier on, but has a larger load of fish to show for it. Food has been scarce lately and people need to eat.

If only the earth didn’t move, he would be home by now. He hears rustling and quickly follows the sound to small fawn. The animal is young, perhaps weeks old, and would be perfect to eat. But Zoro is already loaded with fish and taking this animal now will only be wasteful. He must not waste food when it’s already scarce.

He continues walking, marking the trees he passes by, an idea that seems to be popular because Zoro keeps seeing trees that have been already marked. Either that, or he’s been walking in circles. But that’s impossible—yeah, someone else must have already marked them.

Perhaps it would be best if he just rested? The fish won’t go bad soon and there has to be someone looking for him. He’s pretty sure his sister has already noted his absence. Besides, the larger animals come out at night and while Zoro is skillful, he cannot fight in the dark.

No, the light is precious and Zoro cannot afford to waste it. He will rest when the sun hides, climbing up the trees to keep away from large predators. His tree markings will guide anyone out looking for him and if push comes to shove, he will simply have to spend the night here. The fish will still taste well in the morning.

With his mind made up, he finds it easier to relax. Even the slowly approaching darkness is not enough to dampen his mood, which soared when he caught his twelfth fish of the day. He is sure to receive praise, even Kuina never caught as many.

Though, he is a man. His twenty-first winter passed but some days ago—hunting is expected of him. Why should he receive praise for a job well done? It is his duty. Praise be to Kuina, who despite her weaker frame and slower feet, managed to feed the pack.

If only it weren’t for womanhood, she would still be fishing with him—no, if only it weren’t for their father, who wishes to place her gender before her skill. They do not need more mouths that eat…they need more hands that will feed.

Zoro glances at the sinking sun, scowling when he sees the last rays of sunlight fade. The day is gone and Zoro has yet to find his home. The others already ate, most likely, since the last meal of the day is always given before the light fades. His stomach protests loudly, reminding him that he chose to skip the midday meal for a longer day in the water.

“This is all your fault,” Zoro mutters, glancing at the fish in his basket.

“Talking to the dead, are we, brother?”

Of course Zoro doesn’t startle. He doesn’t _yelp_ either. He simply reacts with _mild_ surprise at Kuina’s amused observation. He glares at her, taking in her wide smirk and shining eyes.

“You know, the pack is down the slope. A few steps to the right and you’ll see it.”

“It is not!” Zoro exclaims hotly. “You think I would not find it if it were—hey!”

Kuina ignores his protests and walks away in the direction of the slope. The night is too dark for Zoro not to follow her. To his anger, he can see their pack as soon as they climb over the slope.

It was but a few steps away! Perhaps the gods like to play with him and lead him the wrong way. There must be no other explanation.

“We had visitors.”

Zoro glances at his sister, his frown deepening. “Had?”

“They left after the midday meal,” Kuina shrugs. “They come from the base of the mountains. No food up there. Father invited them to stay, but their leader has family in the east shoreline.”

“No food? The forest is dense in that area It should be teeming with wild life,” Zoro says.

Kuina smirks. “Don’t you know, little brother? Demons walk those lands.”

Zoro scoffs. “As true as gods walking ours in these times of strife. And I’m taller than you.”

“Taller than anyone in the pack. That just makes you a freak.”

“Says the woman with no want of children.”

“And the one who can still knock you flat on your ass,” Kuina snaps, elbowing him in the gut.

“Ha! Still on my feet!” Zoro manages to choke out, but Kuina is already running off. Zoro manages to catch his breath and follow after her, keeping her in sight as their pack comes into view.

He can see Chiyo and Haru playing near the newly planted fields, one of their dogs by their side. The women swear that they can cultivate the plants of the land near the pack, saving the gatherers the time and danger of trekking through the fields in search of nuts and grains. Zoro has yet to see fruit of their effort, but he has also yet to see a better idea. It does not hurt them to have the fields near, nor does it hurt them if it were to fail.

“It is too dark for play. Go on home,” Kuina snaps at the children, though by now everyone knows that Kuina’s anger is only for show.

“Aye, Kuina!” the children exclaim, giggling. Haru glances at Zoro and whispers something to her brother, who snorts and pulls on her hand. He can still hear them laughing as they run away, glancing back at them every once in a wild.

“Even the children know of your misfortune, Zoro,” Kuina laughs. “Truly, is it so hard for you to understand direction? The sun never changes path, brother. Our pack dwells in the direction it sets.”

“I know that!” Zoro snaps. “It is not my fault the ground moves under my feet. Blame the gods for giving me cursed feet.”

“I blame the gods for much more than that,” Kuina snorts. “Come, Kana saved your meal.”

Zoro scowls and seriously considers turning food down, but his stomach growls and reminds him of how stupid that would be. He should be grateful that there is food to be eaten. Jiro’s grave is still fresh, his death caused by his nobility. Perhaps Kuina is wise not to want children in this time of need, for Jiro gave his every bread and meat to his two little ones.

Perhaps it is best for Jiro to have died before they did, though it is not uncommon for newborns to die shortly after their birth. At least he didn’t see his sacrifice go to waste.

“She is a strong woman, I do not understand why you don’t like her,” Kuina says, bringing Zoro back to the present. “Her father is an able hunter and her mother a fast gatherer. She would be a good mother to your children, O Future Leader.”

“Do not mock me,” Zoro snaps. “Just because you won’t be given the title does not mean I should be ashamed that it will be given to me. A leader protects the pack, Kuina—I will protect you. I do not need a woman for that.”

“It is not you that she wants, brother; it’s what is between your legs,” Kuina mocks. “Newborns die faster than they are born, yet the heat doesn’t leave their loins.”

“Then if you understand, do not ask me why I’m not eager to bed her.”

“I’m not telling you to bed her. I’m telling you she cooks good food and a smile from you will have her roasting fish for days.” Kuina laughs and Zoro rolls his eyes.

“You should have been born a man. Come, eat with me.”

“I’ve already eaten.”

“You eat like a man, too, sister.”

“True.”

Kuina laughs again, and Zoro can’t help but smile. He has always enjoyed Kuina’s laughter and it has been a while since he last heard it. He knows she finds no joy staying near the pack, taking care of children she did not birth and feeding strangers’ mouths. He knows she does not want to be a mother—does not want to be responsible for the few children in their pack and the even fewer pregnant women. But their mother died three winters ago and the responsibility falls on her until Zoro takes the title from his father and a wife.

True to Kuina’s words, Kana is waiting with warm food. She speaks idly, sharing stories of the children and the blooming of one of the fruit trees planted on the west side. Taking heed of his sister’s advise, Zoro treats her kindly and leaves the fish he gathered with her, knowing she will be have it cooked and ready in the morning before he wakes.

“ _Anything for you, Zoro,_ ” Kuina mocks after they have left Kana’s dwelling. 

“Shut up.” Zoro rolls his eyes. “Do not let the sun see you asleep, tiny sister.”

“Shut up,” Kuina snaps, shoving him. “I’m not that short! And you always wake after me!”

Zoro laughs and pats her in the head, groaning when her elbow digs into his stomach. He pulls on her hair and she stomps on his foot. He punches her arm and she smacks his face.

“Enough!” Zoro exclaims, ducking from her next blow. “I’m too tired to keep fighting you. Some of us are out there _hunting_.”

“You mean getting lost,” Kuina snorts. “But fine. Sleep. And in the morning, be prepared to learn another lesson. You have yet to defeat me.”

“Soon,” Zoro promises with a grin.

“You wish, _little_ brother,” she smirks. “Even when the heavens fade, people will speak of the great Kuina, the woman who stood far stronger than any man. You just wait, my name will be legendary to last day of this earth!”

“Yeah, yeah,” Zoro mocks. “Go to sleep, Oh Legendary One.”

Kuina sticks out his tongue at him but doesn’t reply to the jab.

 She built her pit near their father’s, fearing for his health, while Zoro’s pit lies closer to the edge of their territory. His duty is to protect the pack in case anything happens, and he is thankful for his light sleep, which has saved them from many animal attacks.

He makes sure his bone blades and his stone arrow heads are still neatly tucked under his deer pelt before he falls asleep.

 

Sound wakes him. He hears the soft stepping before a slender hands pushes back the thick boar hide he uses to block the sun out. He sits up and his heart sinks as soon as he sees Kuina’s tear-streaked face.

“Father….father wishes to speak with you, brother,” she whispers.

“Kuina—.”

“Go to him.”

Zoro swallows hard and nods. Kuina takes a moment to wipe away her tears before she backs out. He can see sunlight streaming in, can hear the soft voices of the others outside. They are one of the bigger packs in the area with forty-seven members. They hold the most children with five below the age of ten. They may be slowly dying of hunger, but it’s much slower than most other packs.

Any news that can make Kuina cry do not bear well for the pack.

Zoro quickly dresses, making sure his knives are strapped to his waist, before he climbs out of his pit.

Somber faces greet him and his stomach twists in fear. It is an emotion he is not familiar with, an emotion he does not like.

Osamo, the second eldest man in the pack, meets his gaze from across the crops fields and slowly shakes his head. He presses his fist to the center of his chest, two fingers extended to touch his heart and thumb straightened to point to his neck. The message is clear: Koshiro will not see tomorrow’s sun.

Zoro lowers his face and walks towards Yamato and the others. They’re gathered with their ropes and spears, unsure of what to do.

“Hunt red meat and dark berries. Tonight, we feast,” Zoro tells them. “Father will remember this night in the afterlife.”

Yamato nods and presses his fist to his chest in the same manner as Osamo. Condolences. Zoro will see the same gesture for at least three moons. He doesn’t look forward to it.

Kuina is waiting at the foot of their father’s pit, sitting on her legs. Her face is clean of tears, her gaze empty. She loves their father as much as Zoro, perhaps even more, despite their differences. She craves his approval as much as Zoro craves hers. 

This will not be easy.

Zoro steps past her and ducks past the pelts covering Koshiro’s pit. His is bigger, large from the days when Kuina, Zoro, and their mother lived together. It looks empty with only Koshiro’s frail body inside.

Zoro kneels down next to him, facing the damp earth. He can hear shallow breathing, can smell the stink of death. It makes him want to gag, but he swallows down the urge.

“Son…tomorrow’s sun will see your new life.”

“Aye, Father,” Zoro murmurs. 

“The air does not fill my lungs. My heart slows in my chest. I cannot longer protect the pack.”

“I will protect it, Father.” Zoro glances at Koshiro, keeping his gaze blank. “I will not let harm touch our family.”

“There is talk…amongst the wind…of strange men,” Koshiro whispers, his voice a raspy breath. “They come from across the west waters. Stronger than us. Faster. And they number in the thousands.”

“Father, old men love to speak of the danger of youth.”

“Son…do not doubt the wisdom of age,” Koshiro chides and Zoro can’t help but smile. Even near death, his father chides him. “It is your duty to protect the pack now.”

“With my every breath, Father,” Zoro promises.

“Then you will need…strength.” It is getting more difficult for him to speak the words, but his struggle only makes Zoro listen more intently. If his father is fighting so hard to speak, the Zoro will listen. “You need…to strengthen…the pack.”

“Our men are strong, our—.”

“Not against these men,” Koshiro interrupts. “You need…allies. Katashi offers to trade more than his crafts…his son has agreed…to take Kuina…and strengthen—.”

“Father, you can’t mean that!” Zoro interrupts, hissing the words. “Give away my sister—.”

“No, you will gain a brother.”

“Father!”

“It is my order. As I breathe, you must still follow my word,” Koshiro reminds him. “Your sister has agreed.”

“Father, I do not need numbers to win against any threat. My strength is enough—.”

“Your strength is nothing against your foolishness.”

Zoro bites his lip hard enough to taste blood. He understand what his father is saying, he understands that the pack comes first, but…to give Kuina away? To force her to lie with a man that has not proved himself to her, a man that will plant his seed inside of her and force her to rest and give her life away to children…that is something Zoro cannot see himself doing.

Not to Kuina.

But if she has agreed…

“Zoro…I need your word…I need to know you will protect the pack.”

“With my every breath,” Zoro repeats, staring at his hands. 

Zoro tenses when he sees his father’s pale and frail hand reach out to grab his. His skin is cold, his skin leathery. It will not be long now.

“And to the last drop of blood,” Koshiro finishes.

Zoro nods and screws his eyes shut. He understands Kuina’s tears, he understands her blank gaze. With his death, Koshiro is taking away her life as well. Any chance of her returning to the fields is gone. Her blade will not pierce flesh again, her feet will not run in chase. She cannot continue to pursue her dream of being remember as more than just a woman made to birth children.

“Leave me, son. The living have no business with the dead.”

Zoro nods and squeezes his father’s hand softly. He feels like he could break it at the slightest of movements. He stands up slowly and places his fist against his chest, nodding in respect. Koshiro only smiles and closes his eyes.

Zoro stays quiet as he exits. Kuina gets to her feet and follows after him. He stays quiet as he moves past the others, past the cropping field, past the stones that mark the perimeter of their territory, and into the forest.

He doesn’t stop until he doesn’t know where he is, yet he stays quiet.

“I have agreed.”

“You don’t have to.”

Zoro doesn’t like the expression on Kuina’s face. She looks…pitying. She looks defeated. She looks like she knows the battle is lost and feels sorry for Zoro’s need to keep fighting.

“Zoro…”

“Once he’s gone, you don’t have to follow his orders anymore, Kuina.” Zoro speaks quickly, quietly. He knows his words are dangerous. The word of the pack’s leader is law, even in death. “I won’t make you. You can fight.”

“I _will_ fight,” Kuina answers. “Brother, I believe in the rumors of strange men. Travelers have spoken of them. When strangers agree, it is not a coincidence. If it were false, there would be too many inconsistencies, but this is not the case. Danger is coming, and I will fight.”

Zoro grins and grabs Kuina by the shoulders. “And I will fight next to you, sister. You and I, we will protect the pack.”

“Yes…but not together,” Kuina says softly. “I will marry Katashi’s son and his pack shall become mine. I will double the men that fight for you—.”

“Kuina—.”

“—and I will protect the women and children who stay behind,” she finishes.

“You deserve to fight!” Zoro snaps. “You are far stronger than me, why choose a life of servitude to a man? You do not want children, I know you don’t, so why wont’ you fight back?”

“I _am_ fighting!” Kuina shouts, pushing him away. “And I am not stronger than you. Long gone are the times when I could knock you flat on your back, Zoro, we both know it. You have grown taller and stronger while my breasts swell and my waist widens. My strength has changed, brother—I cannot longer fight like a man when I am a woman. But I will still protect my pack anyway I know how. Do not pity my fate, for I am not defeated.”

Zoro can only stare as silent tears fall from Kuina’s eyes. Her fists are trembling and her teeth work her lower lip in anger. She looks exactly the same as she did eleven years ago, when Koshiro first told her that a woman’s place is behind her man.

She has already decided her path and there is nothing Zoro can say that will change her mind.

“When is he to arrive?” Zoro asks, pressing a hand to his forehead where a dull ache has started.

“In four days’ time,” Kuina murmurs. “They come from the northern hills.”

“Food is scarce in that area ever since the winter.”

“Most likely, they will settle here,” Kuina nods. “I do not know if he brings his people or only his self.”

“We need to prepare enough food to feed everyone,” Zoro sighs. “Tonight we feast, but ration the next meals. Do you wish to help me dig father’s grave?”

Kuina hesitates, but finally nods. “Yes. It shall be my last task as a free woman.”

Zoro keeps quiet, but he knows why Kuina agreed. She plans to bury her dreams with their father.

 

Zoro and Kuina do not have time to mourn their father. His death comes with more perils, not to mention the number of animals has decreased. Maybe there’s a large predator that climbed down from the mountains. They don’t normally like to come down to the valley, which is why Zoro’s grandfather settled the pack here, but it’s been known to happen.

When he finds a deer with a torn neck, the meat cut off and chewed brutally, he simply warns the other hunters to watch out for the predator. It’s probably a large feline, a mountain lion or something bigger.

He doesn’t have much time to think of it, especially when Shiro arrives with his pack, bringing warnings of the strange men.

“They killed my father and three of my best hunters,” he tells Zoro in privacy, his eyes wide with fear of the memory. “They carry sharp and unbreakable weapons, their horses follow their every command, and they move quietly in the night—we left them behind the mountain’s, but I fear they may reach us soon.”

“There is talk of a demon there—maybe he’ll do us the favor of killing them off,” Zoro jokes.

“My people speak of it as well,” Shiro nods. “With skin as pale as the moon and eyes of blood…it’s killing the animals, stealing our food.”

Zoro scoffs. “Old men speak of demons and gods walking the earth. If we want to survive, we must find allies.”

“Do you have any more sisters to marry off?”

Shiro pales when Zoro growls, taking a step back at the sound.

“Do not remind me of it,” Zoro snarls. “My sister agreed to you, but I stand against it. You’re in my lands now, so you will follow _my_ lead. Understood?”

Shiro scowls. “Until the danger is past us. Then, I will take my soon-to-be-wife and expand my pack.”

Zoro will not allow him to take Kuina away. Of course, he doesn’t need to know that. Neither does Kuina. Zoro will kill whoever he has to before he allows his sister to be taken away from him. He hasn’t defeated her—how will he let her leave victorious?

“We will have to travel west. Takahiro and Yuuma have done dealing with my late father and their packs stand between us and the strange men from the west. They also have large packs and many able-bodied men.”

“It takes seven days to reach Takahiro. Do you plan on going nomad?”

Zoro shakes his head. “We can’t. I have women with children, they cannot travel for long. We’ll send a few men with news. Two of yours and two of mine, do you find it fair?”

Shiro nods. “I’ll speak with them. To leave in the morning?”

“Before the sun rises,” Zoro nods.

Shiro bows, though not low enough to show Zoro proper respect and walks away. Zoro follows his gait, studying him as he approaches two of his men and begins speaking quietly to them. He notices Taich’s narrowed eyes and motions for his friend to come close.

“Do you know what they speak of?” Taich asks as soon as he takes the spot next to Zoro Shiro vacated. “I do not trust him.”

“Neither do I,” Zoro answers. “But his men are strong and Kuina has chosen him. We have made plans to send a message to Takahiro and Yuuma in the west to join us in the fight against the strange men father spoke of.”

“I’ve heard rumors as well. Some call them demons, the very same that walk the mountain’s base,” Taich nods.

Zoro frowns. “Enough talk of demons. You all sound like chided children. I’d trade you venison that what hides at the base is feline in nature.”

Taich grins. “I trade you fish that is not.”

Zoro nods and pats Taich’s back. “Good. I trust your word. And because of it, I wish for you and Kouki to join Shiro’s men tomorrow. Do you accept?”

“Aye,” Taich nods. “My wife has family with Takahiro. It will aide our cause.”

“Do not speak of my doubts,” Zoro warns. “It is best to be overly prepared than to be wrong. If there is no threat coming from the west, then we will simply have new allies and stronger bonds.”

“And Kuina a new husband.”

Zoro smirks. “Not for long. Can I trust your silence?”

“If I speak, take my tongue,” Taich nods. 

Zoro feels himself relax, the tension leaving his shoulders. “Good. Go join your wife. She’s far better company.”

“Especially tonight,” Taich nods. “When I give news of my travels.”

Zoro rolls his eyes and makes a mental note to stay away from Taich’s pit when he does his nightly rounds. He doesn’t wish to hear the noises he makes in heat. It turned him off when he was the one fucking the man, he doesn’t need to hear it when Taich’s with a woman.

 

In the morning, Taich, Kouki, and two of Shiro’s men leave before the sun greets the morning. He doesn’t expect to hear anything from them at least until the next full moon comes, but that doesn’t mean he has nothing to do.

Shiro insists on the wedding to be done before news from the west comes, using the threat of death as an excuse to hurry the process—which usually takes four full moons to complete.

“My people need something solid to gain their trust,” he tells Zoro and Kuina. “Our union has to be blessed by the gods before they will fight for you.”

“They aren’t fighting for me,” Zoro growls. “They’re fighting to protect their own hide! If the threat is real then—.”

“Do you doubt my words? They killed my father!”

Zoro sighs. “Kuina will marry you, but don’t you think it’s best to wait for the danger to pass? Any children conceived during these times will only die.”

“My brother speaks truthfully. Do not think I will go back on my words,” Kuina adds.

“There are ways to avoid children,” Shiro shrugs. “If you want my help, we must be blessed.”

“Will you rather let your people die than go another night without getting off? Use your hand if you’re in heat—or ask a man to join you, there are enough of them willing!”

“And do you rather see your people die than let our union hurry?” Shiro snaps, speaking out of empty bravery.

Kuina can see it. Zoro can see it. He is weak and cowardly. It would be best just to kill him right now and take in his pack. There is no way someone like him deserves Kuina.

Kuina speaks before Zoro can take out his blade.

“Very well,” she says. “But we will not skip the feast. It will take at least seven days to gather enough food so…in nine days?”

Shiro crosses his arm, but even he knows Kuina speaks sensibly. “Very well. I’ll have your dress prepared.”

“And I our new pit,” Kuina nods. “Thank you.”

Shiro sneers at Zoro but leaves without word. Zoro waits until he’s out of hearing out of respect to Kuina, not the spineless bastard.

“We can still kill him,” Zoro growls. “Cut his throat and taken his people.”

“And sleep with an eye open the rest of your life in fear of retribution?”

“A small price to pay for your freedom,” Zoro shrugs.

Kuina shakes her head but her lips lift in a small smile. “Isn’t it the eldest meant to protect the younger sibling? Brother, I am not to become his slave. He is weak-willed—maybe I am the one to be feared.”

“Not a maybe; I know you are to be feared,” Zoro snorts. “I just don’t see why you have to bond yourself to his body and name in face of the gods.”

“The gods,” Kuina scoffs. “Faceless beings our ancestors feared…do you truly believe anyone but us hold any say in the path we take?”

“You believe demons walk the mountain’s base,” Zoro replies fatly. “Do not mock my faith.”

Kuina laughs lightly. “Perhaps it is not a god that makes crops grow and animals mate. Perhaps that’s just their will. I find comfort in the thought that there is nothing but our own choices that decide our fate.”

Zoro frowns. He’s never put much thought into gods and destiny. He believes in gods because that is what his father preached, what the pack believes. It is not his idea, but one he has borrowed from his ancestor’s. To others, Kuina’s words would be enough cause for death—the gods are feared in the lands, especially right now when food is scarce. But Zoro doesn’t really care.

“I find comfort in it as well,” Zoro finally replies. “But that is not the point—god or no god, I do not think you should marry him.”

Kuina grins. “Well, it isn’t up to you brother. It is my choice and it is to be done. Now, will you prepare the hunters for the feast or will your big sister have to do it for you?”

Zoro scowls and punches her in the arm. “Shut up. They only listen to me.”

Kuina kicks him in the shin and smacks him in the back of the head when he bends over in pain. “So you think. A soft touch has them eager to please. Perhaps you should let them take care of their heat.”

Zoro mumbles a reply, glaring at the back of her head as she leaves as he rubs his head. Damn her and her ability to make him feel like he’s still a little kid chasing after her.

 

It takes less time than expected for enough food to be gathered for a feast. Zoro didn’t take into account Shiro’s hunters, who are well skilled despite Zoro’s dislike for their leader. So with much regret, he agrees to bring the wedding date forward three days.

It is a quick event, nothing like the unions Koshiro officiated for some of the other members of the pack. There is not much joy from Zoro’s pack, while Shiro’s pack still view them with distrust. Unfortunately, the ceremony is completed without any problems and when night comes, Zoro relieves his frustration with any animal that will face him in the dark forest.

Kuina does not look any different when morning comes. She speaks no differently, nor does she treat him any differently. But the self-satisfied smirk on Shiro’s face is enough to make Zoro see red.

“Let it go, Zoro,” Kuina snaps. “I am not yours to protect—I can take care of myself.”

It doesn’t stop him from wanting to sink his knife into Shiro’s chest, but it stops him from actually doing it.

“Here,” Kuina continues and to Zoro’s surprise, hands him her knife—the white-hilted one that she carved out herself when she was eleven winters old. She spent many moons carving the hilt and guard, shaping the shark bone into the perfect blade.

“I can’t take this!” Zoro exclaims. “This is yours!”

“I’m not giving it to you,” Kuina snorts. “Just keep it safe for me. My belongings now belong in the pit I share with my husband. I do not wish for him to get curious and grab it.”

Zoro hesitates but grabs the slender knife. “Just for safe-keeping. Until you can hunt again.”

Kuina smiles. “Yeah. Until I can hunt again.”

“Zoro! Zoro!”

Zoro quickly straps the knife to his belt and uses his tunic to hide it before he turns to face Matsu.

“What’s wrong?” he asks her, taking in her wide, panicked eyes.

“Kouki and Nori have returned—Zoro, they bear bad news.”

Zoro curses and rushes towards Shiro’s pit, where sure enough, Nori and Kouki are speaking with him.

“Zoro!” Kouki exclaims, cutting off Shiro’s response. “Taich—they killed Taich.”

Zoro stops short and stares at Kouki. “T-they? Who’s _they_?”

 “The men from the west,” Shiro spits. 

“There are no packs in the west, they have all been destroyed,” Nori, one of the men Shiro sent with Kouki and Taich, speaks. “It’s an army over three hundred strong that marches forward. They will be here before the full moon.”

“That gives us three days,” Zoro curses.

“Now you believe me?” Shiro snaps. “We must flee, move east until we’re safe.”

“We are not running away!” Zoro snarls. “We will stand and fight.”

“They are over three hundred strong!”

“That just makes it more fun,” Kouki grins. “We will stand with you, Zoro.”

“Thank you, brother,” Zoro answers, squeezing Kouki’s shoulder. “Have you told Kiko the news?”

“No,” Kouki frowns. “But she must know when he did not arrive with me.”

Zoro sighs. “Speak with her. She will be taken care of.”

“We’re wasting time,” Shiro growls. “If we start moving east now, we are sure to gather allies on the way—we must hurry!”

“And remain fleeing all our lives?” Zoro says. “There’s a reason why our ancestors dropped that life. You have a wife now, and soon children, do you want them to know nothing but a coward’s life?”

“I want to live,” Shiro snaps. “And my wife as well. I rather be a coward than a dead man.”

Zoro sneers. “You’ll be a dead coward.”

“Your sister will stand with me on this,” Shiro says. “She is smart; she knows when it’s better to flee than to fight.”

“Do not speak for my sister,” Zoro growls. 

“True, let her speak for herself.”

Zoro turns, surprised, to glance at Kuina. He grins and extends an arm to her, but she ignores him and walks to stand next to Shiro.

“He speaks wisely, brother,” Kuina says, ignoring the way Zoro’s face falls. “Do you not trust Kouki’s eyes? We cannot fight against three hundred strong. It is best to travel east and join the packs that are still alive.”

“Kuina, you can’t be serious,” Zoro scoffs. “Are you _agreeing_ with him? Are _you_ running away?”

“I’m saving our people, Zoro!” Kuina snaps. “Fighting without regard to other’s safety is not strength! You do not need to prove your power like this—save our people, any way you can.”

Zoro stares at his sister—the strongest person he’s ever met. He cannot believe what he’s hearing, cannot believe that Kuina is choosing Shiro’s side. Run away? Flee? Where is the strength Zoro so admired? Where is the proud woman he could never defeat? Where is her bravery and her confidence, the two things he loves about her the most?

“Zoro, do the right thing,” Kuina urges. “We must flee.”

Is nobody willing to stand and fight?

“Very well,” Zoro chokes out. He cannot believe he’s daring to speak the words. “We will _flee_. Prepare the others.”

Kuina smiles softly and presses a hand to his chest. “Thank you, brother. You’re doing the right thing.”

Zoro nods, unable to speak any more. Kuina grabs Shiro’s hand—the sight makes Zoro’s stomach churn—and the couple move past him. Kouki shakes his head but doesn’t speak, leaving in silence too.

 

It feels disgusting. The taste of cowardice is bitter in his tongue. He feels trapped in his own body.

He cannot be around the others, watching them pack their lives into small leather bags, getting ready to flee. He knows, he _knows_ he is strong enough to defeat anyone who dares harm his people. He is strong, he is powerful, he is the strongest man the pack has.

He goes into the forest, knife thirsty to cut through flesh, and ignores the unfamiliar terrain. He is probably lost, more than he has ever been. The trees are getting denser, it’s getting harder to see. He can’t hear the ocean anymore, which probably means he’s very far from his pack.

A rustling sound catches his attention. It sounds like a large animal. Zoro tenses and grins, ready for a fight. He reaches for his knife and is momentarily confused when he touches three hilts. Oh, that’s right. He still has Kuina’s knife, plus the two he always carries.

She defeated him two thousand times with this knife. Wade Ichimonji, she calls it. Straight Road of the Harmony. It is far stronger than his, far more precious. This knife has all of Kuina’s efforts, all the blood and tears she poured into training with Zoro to become a hunter, to be seen as an equal amounts men.

He doesn’t grab it. Instead, he pulls his own.

The beast is circling him. Zoro can hear leaves rustling, can hear ragged breaths. Is it wounded? He crouches low and studies his surroundings. His breath catches in his throat when he meets two yellow eyes. They’re quite high, taller than Zoro would’ve expected from a four-legged beast. 

Those eyes stand against the darkness, cold and calculating, and filled with bloodlust. They hold stark intelligence, and it is that intelligence that keeps him from being surprised when the beast moves out of the darkness to reveal a man.

Zoro’s eyes immediately fall to the wound on his stomach. His white shirt is stained red, his chest rising shallowly.

“It seems I am in luck tonight,” the beast—he may look human, but Zoro knows better—says. His voice is cold and toneless. “You will do.”

Zoro raises an eyebrow and tightens his grip on his knife. “I’m at the mountain’s base. You’re the demon they speak of.”

The beast raises a dark eyebrow. His skin is pale, like a corpse’s. The blood seeping out of his wound is black and thick, how blood gets when there is no heat to warm it.

“Demon…yes, you may call me that,” the beast shrugs. “I find no need for my meals to know my name.”

Zoro suppresses a shiver. He will not call the coldness seeping into his spine fear. He is not afraid. 

“My name is Roronoa Zoro,” he speaks. “Learn the name of the man who is going to kill you.”

The creature moves slowly, almost lazily, as he brings out his knife. It is smaller than Zoro’s, just long enough to reach an animal’s heart.

“I will kill you,” Zoro growls. “Do not mock me. A man is born to kill his demons.”

The creature’s lips lift in what seems like a smile. It looks too deadly to be one.

“And are you a man, little boy?”

Anger blinds him. Looking back, this was his mistake. He moves before the words leave the creature’s mouth and the beast moves just fast enough to block Zoro’s knife.

He is strong. Even wounded, his strength matches Zoro. But his body moves sluggishly, his range cut short by pain every time he moves. Zoro can see that the wound is deep, almost cutting him in half, and there is more blood covering the ground that in the creature’s body.

If he is this wounded, then why is Zoro struggling? Why is he fighting to stay alive? Why can’t he kill this demon?

“Enough,” the creature snarls, and swings his knife wildly.

Zoro is not fast enough and the blade sinks in his eye, cutting through soft flesh and turning his sight red. He screams in pain and flails back, but before he can move to safety, the creature’s knife sinks into the skin of his upper chest and drags down to the opposite hip.

The pain is excruciating, but Zoro can only feel it as an afterthought. He knows it hurts, he knows it hurts more than anything he has felt in his life, but he doesn’t _feel_ it. It’s almost like he’s outside of his body, watching the scene from the sky. 

Maybe it’s that which gives him the strength to grab Kuina’s knife and bring it down on the creature’s heart.

The yellow eyes widen in surprise as blood spurts out and bathes Zoro in red. How the creature still has blood Zoro will never know. He falls on his back and grunts in pain when the creature falls on top of him.

Zoro can only stare numbly as the yellow eyes turn a vicious red. The creature groans and lifts his head, then freezes. His mouth goes slack, his body tenses, and his eyes widen in fear as they fix in a point far away from Zoro. And then, in less than a blink of an eye, the weight disappears from Zoro as the demon’s body turns to black ash.

Zoro coughs as the dust enters his mouth, blocking his throat. He cannot move. The shock has left his system and the pain is starting to enter his consciousness. He is blinded, both from the gash on his eye and the black ash on his face. He can feel his blood leaving his system, can feel the wound burning white-hot.

He is going to die.

And Zoro is _very_ afraid.

 

When he wakes, it is still dark. Or maybe it’s dark again. He has no idea how much time has passed. He isn’t even sure he is still alive. 

His heart is not beating.

He never noticed the sound of its pumping before, but now that is gone, the silence is eerie. There are no sounds—no wind, no animals, not even the muted sounds of Zoro’s own body.

He never knew silence could be so _loud._

He unsteadily gets to his feet and stops when his body doesn’t complain. There is no sudden rush of blood, no aches, no pains. He is bathed in dried blood, but nothing hurts. And when he tears his shirt off, it is with trembling fingers that he traces the rough and gnarled scar than cuts him in half, diagonally. 

How can it be healed? Such a wound should have killed him, and if not, taken at least two full moons to heal. His fingers quickly touch his face and he gasps when he feels the second scar, this one softer and thinner. It is only when he touches the scar that he realizes his eyesight is lacking, the left side blind.

And then he notices that he can _see_. It’s dark, the moon high in the sky, but he can see as if it were daylight. Everything is so clear, so bright—how is this possible?

He killed the demon, but why is he still alive? He should have been death. He was sure he _was_ dead. Perhaps it’s best not to question and simply be glad that he is alive.

He uses his torn shirt to wipe away most of the blood, though it has dried and seeped into his skin, giving his tanned skin a reddish tint. He finds Kuina’s knife buried under a mount of ash, clean of blood. He dusts off the few stubborn flecks of dust sticking to the white hilt and straps it back to his belt. 

Now, it’s time to go back home. The others must be worried about him, especially since Zoro doesn’t even know how much time has passed. Fuck, the westerners were due to arrive in three moon’s time from when Zoro disappeared. What if they arrived and the others were still there, waiting for Zoro?

Fear grips his still heart and Zoro starts running, hoping he’s going in the right direction. His breath doesn’t shorten and his heart doesn’t beat wildly. There is no exhaustion. He can probably run all the way back to the pack like this and not even sweat.

He stops when the trees blur by his sides, and it is only then that he realizes how fast he was running. Faster than he has ever run in his life. Faster than any feline Zoro has ever faced. Faster than it is possible to run.

His breath quickens though his lungs don’t demand to breathe. He holds his breath for one, two, five, sixty, ninety seconds and nothing happens. No pain, no panic, no burning need to take in a deep inhale of air.

What happened to him? Is he cursed? Is this the price for killing that demon? Has Zoro inherited the creature’s curse?

The beast was strong, stronger than Zoro has ever met. Hesitantly, slowly, Zoro moves towards one of the bigger trees and presses his palm against the rough bark. He pushes softly and the tree breaks off.

It was just a soft push, softer than when he plays with the children of the pack.

He is stronger. He is faster and more agile than any man he’s ever faced.

This is…this is perfect! He is stronger, he can defeat the westerners! He can cut down their ranks and save his people! Kuina won’t have to stay with Shiro, they won’t have to flee their home—everything can go back to the way it was.

Eager to show Kuina his new strength, he starts running again, laughing when the sight around him start to blur. He runs faster than the wind, and when scents start to get familiar, he switches his path and follows his nose.

Soon, he can hear the sounds of water and it doesn’t take long for him to arrive home.

Except, everyone is gone. There is nothing but the round stones that marked their territory. Tracks have been cleared, but Zoro can still smell the scent of his friends. It is weird, to be able to smell something like that.

But he knows it hasn’t been long since they left. Perhaps yesterday? Yeah, seems about right.

There are no signs ofa struggle or a massacre. No blood was spilled. So either the westerners haven’t come through here or they passed without meeting with Zoro’s pack.

Should he…? Well, it wouldn’t hurt.

Slowly, Zoro lifts his head up to the sky and takes a deep breath.

Earth. Salt. A deer off in the forest. Some kind of dead animal, the meat already rotten. The burning ambers from the fire that was lit here days ago. The fainter scent of cooked meat. Something bitter and harsh, something completely alien.

Zoro opens his eyes and looks in the direction the scent is coming from. It’s opposite the mountain, towards Takahiro’s pack. So the westerners haven’t passed yet, huh…

He will meet the others with the good news, he decides. He will test this curse against these men and see who comes on top.

If he dies, then that just proves what kind of man he was. If he lives, he can keep his people safe.

With the decision made, he takes off running in the direction of the strange scent. It is easier to travel using his new sense of smell. He doesn't have to trust his eyes or his feet, all he has to do is follow the harsh scent.

And it leads him true.

Kouki wasn’t lying when he said they were many. Zoro has never seen so many people together, not even when he travelled with his father to visit the bigger packs to trade.

They are dressed exactly the same, their clothing hard and unbendable. They carry long weapons made of the same material, stronger than bone. Some of them are awake, keeping guard, but the majority of them are asleep. They’re using animal hides as shelter, using poles to create tents. 

Zoro approaches them quietly, holding his breath and keeping to where the moon doesn’t shine.

The first man dies in seconds. Zoro only has to squeeze his throat for the man to drop dead. He is faster with the others.

By the time anyone senses something wrong, it’s too late. They grab their long knives and rush at Zoro, but he fights them off easily. Their blades cut through his flesh, but the wounds heal. They are disorganized and blinded by the darkness, their movements sluggish by sleep, but Zoro is a predator made to hunt in the cover of the night, swift and deadly.

Their blood paints the ground a beautiful red. It shines in the darkness, calling to Zoro, begging him to spill more. And he obeys. 

He kills them all before the sun rises.

His laughter rings in the loud silence. A curse? This is a blessing! Power without compare? Strength beyond imagination? Oh, he should’ve become a demon sooner! Who needs gods with power like this?

He needs to tell Kuina. She no longer has to be with Shiro. She can stand at his side, his equal in every way. She will be able to fight, to hunt, to be whoever she wants to be.He can protect his people—he _has_ protected them. If there are any more strange men, let them come. Zoro will kill each and every one of them.

And if he can share his strength with Kuina, he will do so eagerly.

He runs in the direction of home, following the sweet scent of familiarity and friends. He will be able to tell Kiko he avenged her husband’s death. He will be able to bless many unions without fear of their children dying. 

He will be able to protect the people he loves most.

His happiness moves his feet faster. Still, despite his speed, the sun is high in the sky by the time he catches sight of his pack. They’re moving slowly up the hills, seeking safety in the valley hidden behind. It is a good plan. If anybody comes, the hills will offer protection. Venison is scarce here, but there is always plenty of fish in the lake. Even bear, though the meat is not tasty, fills the stomach.

His stomach twists in hunger and reminds Zoro he hasn’t eaten anything in three moons. Wow, it’s a wonder he just barely noticed how empty his stomach is. His throat aches in thirst, but the water doesn’t look very appetizing. Perhaps Kuina still has some of her famous fermented grape juice. That’s always tasty.

Kenta is the first one to notice him. He is lagging behind, carrying his children on his back, but he stops and stares when he catches sight of him.

“Zoro!” he shouts, placing his children down to rush towards him. “You’re alive!”

His shout alerts the others and soon the hill hears everyone’s shouts of happiness and joy.

“Brother!” Kuina exclaims, rushing forward to hug him. “I thought you were—never do that to me again!” she snaps, punching him in the arm. He barely feels it.

“I’m sorry, Kuina,” Zoro murmurs. “I bring good news. We can go back home, the threat is gone!”

“How can it be gone?”

Zoro looks up and scowls when he meet’s Shiro gaze. “What?”

“The strange men move quickly. We must keep going. There is safety down the hill,” Shiro says.

“The men are dead,” Zoro says flatly. “I have killed them.”

“Zoro?” Kuina gasps. “How can that be true…? There were too many of them, you couldn’t have possibly killed them all!”

“I’ll show you their bodies if you wish,” Zoro shrugs. “I left their bodies for the crows to eat.”

“You killed three hundred, but more come. Rumor as it their lands stretch farther than the horizon,” Shiro says, rolling his eyes. “We must continue east. One threat is gone, not all.”

“We live in an island, Shiro,” Zoro snaps. “How far east can you travel? I can fight them; I’ve killed three hundred in less than a day, it won’t take long to kill three legions. If you trust me, you will come back home.”

“Zoro…” Kuina murmurs. “We must…think. Even if we travel back, night is almost upon us. The hills are safe enough for tonight, we can rest and think of this tomorrow with fresh minds.”

“Wise words from my wife,” Shiro says and Zoro grits his teeth at the title. “We may rest.”

“Very well,” Zoro speaks through gritted teeth. “We will rest.”

 

After a long night of arguments, they come to an agreement. They will trek down the hill and settle there; they will send scouts to the west again to see if there’s another army being sent down; and they will send another set of scouts east, seeking allies.

“Two days, brother,” Kuina says softly. “You must wait only two days.”

But it is easier said than done, for in the early morning the next day, Zoro learns why he is cursed.

He can’t feed. There is a hunger, deep and painful in the pit of his stomach, that won’t go away no matter what he does. There is a thirst that makes his throat ache and his mouth dry, yet water won’t quench. Meat tastes delicious, but it twists his stomach and is quickly returned, making the thirst all the more painful.

And the worst thing is that all the food offered to him smells mouthwatering; better than anything he has ever smelled, it makes his body ache with the need to sink his teeth into it and just rip it apart. But once it gets into his mouth, it tastes like dirt.

His horror is without compare when he realizes it is not the food that smells mouthwatering, but the people offering it to him.

Now he remembers the demon he killed, how hungry he looked and how he spoke of eating Zoro. Is this his curse? Is he to crave human flesh? No…not their flesh, but their blood. It calls to him, sweet and tempting. He can _see_ their veins, stark red against their dark skin, pumping warm blood. He can see himself biting into their necks, ripping the flesh easily, feasting upon their essence.

And the he meets their eyes and remembers who they are: friends, allies, _family_.

He must be stronger than this. He must fight it. He must withstand it.

He can feast upon the westerners, take his fill with their lives. He won’t harm his people; he rather die.

But his resolve is quickly destroyed when Kouki and Nori return upon their second day, bearing bad news.

“There are more men that we were able to count,” Kouki tells Shiro, Kuina, and Zoro, his voice dark. “More men that I’d ever thought I’d see.”

“They stand at four days’ trek from here,” Nori continues, his grim voice mirroring his grim eyes. “If we don’t flee…we will die.”

“And the three hundred men that followed us first?” Kuina asks, glancing at Zoro.

“Dead. Like Zoro said they would be,” Kouki answers and Shiro scowls.

“That doesn’t matter,” he dismisses. “Are there more than three hundred.”

“ _Many_ times more.”

“Then it is useless to hope that Zoro alone can defeat them.”

“He wouldn’t be alone,” Kouki says. “We would fight next to him. Like we should have done the first time.”

Kuina sighs and lowers her gaze. “I do not want to flee.”

“Don’t be such an idiot!” Shiro snaps. “We will _die_. Is that what you want?”

“Do not speak to my sister in that manner,” Zoro growls. 

“She is my wife—I can speak to her in whatever manner I please!” Shiro snarls. “This alliance is over! I will take my people, and I will take my _wife_ , and we will flee east. We shall seek safety in the beast-infested jungles and we will _live_.”

“I will stand with my brother,” Kuina says firmly, glaring at Shiro. “I will stand with my pack.”

“Over my dead body!” Shiro yells and grabs Kuina roughly by the shoulder.

He shouldn’t have done that.

It’s like a switch, a dam breaking in less than a second. All of Zoro’s anger, his frustration, his _hunger—_ it all breaks and bleeds red the moment he sees Shiro’s hand touch Kuina.

The first taste of blood is like heaven on earth.

He doesn’t realize he’s moved, he doesn’t realized he’s pushed Niro out of the way so roughly that the man was thrown feet away, he doesn’t realize that his teeth are those of an animal’s, wicked sharp and long. All he knows is that his mouth is pressed against a warm and tender neck and that the ache in his throat is being soothed by the warm blood being pumped into his mouth by a steadily dying heart.

It is liquid ecstasy, a taste of ambrosia, the most wonderful thing that has ever existed. And he can’t get enough of it. He drink until there is nothing left and when he stops, Shiro’s body drops to the floor, dead.

“…brother…?”

Zoro licks his mouth clean and looks at Kuina. Her eyes are wide with fear and Kouki has his blade out, hand shaking. Niro is frozen where he was thrown.

The hunger is gone. The song of his friend’s veins has stopped. He feels stronger than ever, more awake and energized than ever before.

“Demon…” Niro whispers, then his voice gets louder. “Demon!”

Kouki’s hand stops shaking and he steps in front of Kuina, face determined. “Stay back!”

“Zoro, what did you do?” Kuina whispers, afraid.

“No, you don’t understand!” Zoro exclaims quickly. “This is good!”

“You killed Shiro!” Niro yells. “You—you drank his blood, you…”

“You have to listen to me!” Zoro says imploringly. “Look, I…I killed the demon from the mountain’s base. You were all right, he was real, and I _killed_ him. But I…it seems I inherited his curse—but what a curse it is, hidden in blessings! It gives me strength, it gives me power; I can defeat the westerners with this strength. I am _not_ going to harm you!”

“Oh, brother,” Kuina murmurs and her fear turns to pity. The look twists Zoro’s insides and leaves him feeling strangely empty, despite the fullness of his stomach. “A curse is a curse, no blessings involved. Strength though you may have, you have been cursed to feed from people’s essence—what an existence can exist through that?”

“An existence meant to save you,” Zoro answers curtly. “I am still _me_ —I am still your brother. I won’t let this fate carve my path. You must trust me. Kuina… _please_.”

Kuina hesitates, but Kouki is the first to speak.

“He did defeat three hundred,” he reminds them, his blade lowering. “I do not want to flee all my life.”

“My people will never accept it,” Nori says, though he doesn’t sound too sure. “Shiro was not loved, but we are loyal.”

“Then move that loyalty to Shiro’s wife,” Kuina says. “I will follow my brother.”

Tension he didn’t know he carried leaves Zoro and his shoulders sag in relief. He can’t help the thankful smile that lifts his lips, and he spirits soar when Kuina returns it, albeit not as honest.

“Children and women will continue east, towards allies. Every abled warrior will travel west with me and meet the armies head on. When victorious, we will return for our people and go back home,” Zoro orders.

“So it will be done,” Kouki nods. “Come, Nori.”

Zoro pretends not to notice the way Kouki goes around him, avoiding direct contact. He knows they are still nervous about him—his face is still red and Shiro’s body is still warm.

Zoro glances down but quickly averts his gaze when he sees the deep gash on the mangled neck. He did that. This is his punishment.

“We will dig a grave for him,” Kuina speaks and Zoro looks at her. “And we will drink to him before we leave.”

Zoro nods. “As you wish, sister.”

Kuina nods sharply but before she can turn to leave, Zoro grabs her hand softly. She looks at him and her eyes widen in surprise when Zoro takes out her knife and places it in her hand.

“You will need this,” he tells her.

Kuina stares at the white handle, then grins and takes. “Yes. You better watch me, brother; you might learn a little something.”

Zoro smiles. “I will, sister. I won’t look away.”

 

 

 

They bury Shiro and drink to his safe travels into the afterlife. His people are distrustful of Zoro and Kuina—with good reason, of course—but they trust Niro. The women—minus Kuina—and the children are sent east, two men leaving with them to guide and protect them. 

Zoro and Kuina lead the way west. Zoro moves slowly, too slowly, but Kuina still struggles to keep up with him. They travel by daylight and moonlight, keeping to short rests to keep up their strength. 

Despite Kouki’s words, Zoro is still amazed when he sees the army. They have settled in the mountain’s pass, using the terrain for protection. The only way to attack is forward, where the path opens up to the fields Zoro called home as a child. It is a sound plan, but every man here knows how to fight in the treacherous terrain that the mountain’s provide.

Still, Zoro holds them back until the moon is high in the sky.

“I will move first,” Zoro tells Kuina, Nori, and Kouki. “Take out as many as I can. Once they are panicked and confused, you will come in and we shall lay waste to them.”

“After this, our names will be remembered throughout history,” Kuina whispers and to his immense surprise, places a soft kiss on his cheek. She hasn’t done that since they were little. “Fight with your every breath.”

“And to the last drop of blood,” Zoro swears, grinning.

He ignores the little whispers of misgivings, moving swiftly and quietly. Just like before, Zoro has killed dozen before the others realize what is going on. But unlike the first time, there is no end to the people he kills. He loses count and yet more come.

The others join him faster than he would’ve liked, but he can’t be distracted right now. These men have weapons he has never seen before, arrows made of a material stronger than wood and stone. They move without fear and disorder, obeying unheard orders without hesitation. 

And there are more of them than Zoro could have ever imagined. Not dozens, not hundreds, but _thousands_. For every one he falls, four more take his place.

And despite his strength and speed, he can also be wounded. So he discovers when a well-aimed arrow imbeds in his chest, piercing muscle and bone to come out through his back. He is wounded faster than he can heal and the blood dripping from his body is not from his enemies, but from his own body.

It is as dark and heavy as the demon’s he killed.

But he keeps fighting. He loses his knives but gains more. He grabs their weapons and kills them with them. And finally, when the sun starts rising in the sky, no one replaces the man he kills.

For the first time in what seems like years, Zoro stops.

He can’t feel his body. He is not breathing. He is bleeding too much. So he just stands and watches the sun rise. He falls to his knees and doesn’t feel the earth hit his knees. He can’t lift his hands, he can’t hear anything.

And then, from the corner of his eye, he sees movement. Slowly, with great effort, he moves his head and meets the strangest eyes he has ever seen.

There is a man standing in the middle of the massacre. He is strange, not one of the westerners nor a member of Zoro’s pack.

He stands with a simple white tunic wrapped around his waist, chest and feet bare. He is as pale as the demon Zoro killed, though he doesn’t carry the pallor of corpses. His hair is the color of sunlight, his eyes the color of the clearest ocean. His features are sharp but delicate, his body long and slender.

Zoro doesn’t have the energy to be curious. He doesn’t care who the man is. He isn’t even sure if the man is real. Instead, when the darkness comes, Zoro closes his eyes and lets it take him away.

It doesn’t matter anymore. Nothing does.

 

The smell of rotting flesh wakes him. The sun is high in the sky, though the sky itself is dark with the black wings of birds of carrion. Zoro can hear their cries and the sound of their beaks ripping through flesh. He sits up suddenly, and the few around him take flight.

“It always take long the first time.”

Zoro pivots around and he’s not even surprised when he locks gaze with yellow eyes.

“You—! You did this to me!” Zoro yells.

“You did this to yourself. You did all of it.”

The fight leaves Zoro as quickly as it arrived. He can’t bear to look around him, can’t bear the possibility of seeing a familiar face.

“Why am I—why are you—?”

“What, did you think your new dietary need was the curse?” the man—not a beast anymore—mocks. “More power than you could ever imagine…and the only drawback a craving for blood? You’re more of a fool than I’d thought.”

“Then what is it?” Zoro snaps, shaking his head. “What am I? Why am still _here_?”

“Because that is your punishment,” the man replies simply. “You cannot die. You can never rest. You are cursed to walk this earth, free of death, even after the world ends. You will watch the people you love die. Every familiar face will fade away. You will be alone for all of eternity. That is our punishment.”

The sound that leaves Zoro is not human. _He_ is not human. Because surely any human faced with the sorrow and pain that invades his body now would die from it. If his heart were beating, heartbreak would stop it now.

“How can this be?” Zoro cries. “Why…why are we punished? Why can’t we die?”

“Who knows?” the man shrugs. “It has been so since before I was born—for the first time, that is. There are few of us in existence, yet no one knows who the first one is.”

To live for all eternity…to continue to live after what he’s done. For _he_ killed his sister, he killed his pack. He killed everyone in this pass—these rotting bodies are his making, his cross to bear.

He is a monster, a creature not worth living, yet it will continue so until the sun stops rising from the east.

No. He has died already. His heart and soul are dead, gone with Kuina. But his body and mind remind and that is his curse.

“My name is Dracule Mihawk.”

“I don’t care,” Zoro mumbles, his gaze still on the ground.

“Hmm. Will you stay here then?”

“Is there anything better to do?”

“You will die,” Mihawk shrugs. “Kneeling here. It will be from hunger—the worst way to die. It takes too long and the pain is unbearable. You will remain alive as your body eats itself and soon, when you’re weaker, the animals of the land won’t fear you and will eat from you as well. And then—you will return. And it will start again.”

“I don’t care.”

There is silence—as silent as the feasting of crows can be—then Mihawk speaks again. “It should have been your sister.”

Zoro looks up and glares at him. “What?” he snarls.

“Your sister,” Mihawk repeats. “She fought bravely. I watched her, from atop the mountain. I can’t believe I sired such a weakling—when you killed me, I thought I’d finally met a worthy adversary. But now I see it would have been better if you sister had taken my blood—she was far stronger.”

“Do not speak of her,” Zoro growls. “She doesn’t deserve this fate, she would have never—I would have never—.”

Words fail him so he reacts the only way he knows how—he rushes forward and attacks the other man. But Mihawk moves faster than Zoro’s eyes can follow, and without Zoro’s knowledge, he ends up not he ground, a blade buried in his chest.

He looks at it in shock, then up to meet Mihawk’s cold yellow eyes.

“Every time we die, we come back stronger,” Mihawk explains. “This won’t kill you, but it _is_ painful.”

“I will kill you,” Zoro snarls. “I will fight you, I don’t care how many times. And I will kill you as many times as I have to until you don’t come back again. If eternity is a punishment I have to face, I won’t face it with you in this world.”

Mihawk stares at him, impassive, and then to Zoro’s utter surprise, he bursts out laughing.

“Good,” he cheers. “I’ve been looking for a little entertainment. Three hundred years can take a toll, you know,” Mihawk says. He steps back, taking the knife buried in Zoro’s chest with him, and Zoro watches as the wound heals quicker than before.

“I look forward to facing you again. Grow stronger,” Mihawk says and turns his back on Zoro to walk away.

But before he leaves, he turns back and fixes him with a cold, unblinking eye.

“Did he see you?”

“What?” Zoro snaps, confused.

“The blue-eyed man; did he see you?”

Zoro’s eyes widen in surprise. “Wait—he was _real_? Who is he?”

“I don’t know,” Mihawk replies grimly. “If you take nothing from me, just listen this one time: do not speak to the blue-eyed man. Do not let him know you can see him. Whatever he does, whatever you do, _do not speak to him_.”

“Why?” Zoro asks, confused.

“I don’t know,” Mihawk murmurs. “It is the one advice my sire left me—but if _he_ feared him, then I find it wise to fear him, too. Take it as you will, Roronoa.”

And with that, Mihawk takes off running—faster than Zoro can move, he disappears within seconds.

With his departure, the noise around Zoro becomes deafening. He cannot bear to listen to the crows anymore and a loud shout drives them to the sky. They continue circling the massacre, but none of them approach Zoro.

He moves slowly, careful not to step on anybody. He pays close attention to faces, forcing himself to memorize each and everyone.

He sees her knife first. It is buried in the chest of a strange man, the hilt painted red. It comes out slickly, the blade cracked at the tip. The blood has dried on it, and the more Zoro tries to clean it with his shirt, the dirtier it gets. He needs to get the blood out.

But first….

He lifts his gaze and his eye quickly zeroes in on black hair. He walks forward slowly and kneels next to her.

She is surprisingly clear of blood. There are no wounds in her body, but he can see the deep bruising around her neck that show him how she died. Someone broke her neck—grabbed her from behind, by the looks of it.

Carefully, Zoro straightens her up. He combs her hair away from her face and cleans the dirt away from her face and clothes as best as he can. Her skin is cold and her legs are scraped from where a few crows got to her. Otherwise, she could be asleep.

“With my every breath,” Zoro whispers, placing his fist to his chest, two fingers extended to touch his heart, thumb straightened to point to his neck. “And to the last drop of blood—I swear, we will be remembered.”

He gets to his feet and straps her knife to his belt.

It doesn’t take long to find the tools necessary to dig up dirt amongst the westerners’ belongings. It doesn’t take long to find a spot perfect enough for his sister. 

Zoro stabs the dirt with the flat stone and presses his heel to dig it in. Kuina’s will be the first grave, but it certainly won’t be the last.

And so, Zoro digs.

 

**Author's Note:**

> This story is supposed to take place during Japan's Jomõn Period, roughly around 400 B.C. The Westerns are supposed to be from China, which around that time was in its Warring State Period. I'm not a history person, so there's probably a lot of wrong things. If that bothers you, my bad. I literally did twenty minutes worth of research on this.


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